the whispers, the constant traffic in the halls, the vile men who frequented it. Even the other girls who roomed at the house were unfriendly. There were four of them, uninteresting, spiteful, with hardly any personality. They all looked alike and acted alike. They were multigraphed copies of an average street lady. They took coke and walked about as though in dreams. For the most part, Mary remained in her own room reading or scheming.
One of the first things she had done on entering her new life was to change her name. She chose a fancy name because it was appropriate to her calling. Louella Leota. It was a pretty name. It appealed to men. Mary Blaine was dead. She would never be resurrected. In her place was Louella Leota, who was born old, a schemer, a treacherous charmer of men.
That night she and John Rott ate at a roadhouse many miles from the shadows and wraiths of that house. Rott had a handsome team of horses. They were thoroughbreds and he drove them himself. He was pleased at the fine appearance the carriage made as it rolled through the streets. No wonder people turned to stare at them. He was dressed flashily in a Prince Albert coat, a large blue cravanette ulster, and in his buttonhole was a red rose.
Louella Leota, sitting beside him, had never looked more beautiful. She was quietly dressed in a brown suit and a small bonnet-like hat. It was an artful ensemble, for it gave to her a demure air which was simply stunning. Men could not turn their eyes away from her and John Rott was justly proud. He would perhaps have felt rather differently had he known that she had all her money hidden about her person. This night was to be a farewell party.
"We're going to have a great time," he said.
"I hope so," she told him. "It's an absolute novelty to me. You see it is a long time since I've been out."
"From now on we'll go out together often."
She smiled. "You almost make it sound as though we're a couple of city lights."
"We are," he declared.
"Yes," she said a trifle bitterly, "red lights."
12
